


boyfriend jacket

by caandlelit



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Arguing, Banter, Dialogue, First Kiss, Flirting, Kissing, Like, M/M, Mutual Pining, Tenderness, he knows if they were left alone theyd be happy to argue and banter for days on end, oikawa is very longsuffering, senseless arguing, teenagers just............fucking around, the feeling of talking senseless shit with your best friend all day long at school, thinking of high school matsuhana these days what can u do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caandlelit/pseuds/caandlelit
Summary: Matsukawa Issei, self-proclaimed fashion model, hates the Aoba Johsai school uniform with a burning passion.With every fiber of his being, he despises having to wake up in the morning and roll out of bed and tug on that horrible shirt that’s the worst shade of blue, those terrible checkered pants, and the cream colored coat and sweater that are too tight on his broad shoulders and fucking itchy, respectively.He likes the red tie though. Sure, he’s never had it on very tight or for very long, but he likes red. It’s a solid color.(so he obstinately refuses to wear the coat and vest until the school administration give up and let the student body wear whatever jackets they want over their uniform, which is a win but by then he has another problem. this one is a tad gayer and comes in the form of one hanamaki takahiro)
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei
Comments: 24
Kudos: 268





	boyfriend jacket

**Author's Note:**

> who's sick of me yet <3

Matsukawa Issei, self-proclaimed fashion model, hates the Aoba Johsai school uniform with a burning passion.

With every fiber of his being, he despises having to wake up in the morning and roll out of bed and tug on that horrible shirt that’s the worst shade of blue, those terrible checkered pants, and the cream colored coat and sweater that are too tight on his broad shoulders and fucking itchy, respectively.

He likes the red tie though. Sure, he’s never had it on very tight or for very long, but he likes red. It’s a solid color.

The rest of the uniform is a fucking eyesore, though. See, it’s just not in the color palette he’d like it to be. Issei likes monochrome shades with a graphic pop, blacks and neons, nerdy dark themed animated tees and skinny jeans. He’s got his style sense figured out and he’s comfortable in it.

That’s why the Seijoh uniform, with it’s pale colors and fucking _checkers_ , pisses him off to no end. It’s irritating. His hatred was only multiplied when a girl in his class straight up bluntly informed him that he looks weird in the uniform.

That had stung, he’ll admit. It was uncalled for.

Issei had decided pretty early on that no one was getting him into that itchy-ass sweater. Over his dead fucking body, he declared at the dining table in his first year. His mother, also fond of muted shades, had taken one look at the sweater and cringed, and told him that as long as he didn’t catch a cold, she didn’t care.

He’d went without a coat or vest for as long as he could, until November, when the chill really started settling in and even Issei’s naturally furnace-like body heat needed an extra layer. Plus, Takahiro had been getting worried and had told him that there was no excuse for why his hands were fucking freezing all the time, now. He’d been so cute and demanding, telling Issei firmly, with no room for argument, to start dressing warmer or he’d beat his ass because Takahiro needed his body warmth.

Issei had caved immediately at the implication that Takahiro needed him in any way, shape or form.

He got away with wearing the volleyball uniform jacket as much as he could, but soon enough a teacher informed him that he couldn’t wear a sports jacket with the school uniform. Issei had sighed, and went with wearing an extra layer under his school and undershirts for a while, but then Takahiro had questioned it in the locker room one day and then Issei had had to tell him, and Hiro had laughed for a full minute at the ridiculous, petty explanation. He’d indulgently agreed, however, after he was done laughing at the petulant look on Issei’s face, that the school sweater vest is pretty garbage.

Somehow, Takahiro still manages to look good in it. Soft and pastel colors suit him.

But after that incident, he’d been too ashamed to wear two shirts underneath the school one, and the next day, he had shown up wearing one of his own hoodies over the uniform shirt.

A teacher had confronted him, asking him to take it off and hand it over, as the school policy was strict on that only the school coats and vests were allowed. He had made his excuses, oh no I’m sorry my sweater is in the wash and it’s so cold today, you understand, right sensei? He had sighed and waved him off.

A strict private school like Seijoh wasn’t gonna keep letting it go that easily, though, and soon enough Issei had been in literal detentions for straight up refusing to take off his beloved bomber jacket.

The principal had been called eventually in his third year by a particularly overeager teacher, and she had stared at Issei’s expressionless face and told him tiredly to just make it easy on them both and take it off. He had leaned forward and looked her in the eye and said seriously, ‘Are you really going to punish me over a jacket? Like, can you do that with a straight face, sensei?’

The principal, a down to earth woman who was familiar with Issei from the numerous other times he’d been called to her office, and wasn’t just some stuck-up teacher at a private school, could understand Issei’s disbelief at the over-dramatization of the issue, and had made a face like, you got me there, kid.

She’d let him go and the next day, she’d announced that it was officially okay to wear whatever jacket you wanted as long, as it was black or white.

The student body went crazy and Takahiro had been impressed at his pure pigheadedness and Issei, with his abundance of black hoodies and leather and aviator jackets, had been delighted.

He’d walked into school the next day with his leather jacket on and had promptly been told by the principal who was walking by, that okay sorry, _no_ , kid, there is a fucking line, no leather, for god’s sake, they’re going to think you’re some yakuza punk.

Takahiro had snickered and Issei had sighed, and stuck to his hoodies and other jackets from then on.

This revolution of being allowed to wear whatever jacket you want had gotten Issei his long deserved fifteen minutes of fame in the school corridors. Takahiro had told him that he didn’t know about ‘long deserved’ but Issei had replied that he couldn’t hear him over the sound of the three actual high fives he got in the hall.

On this particularly cold February morning, as the worst of the chill is fading so no one is piling on coats and scarves anymore, Issei wears his favorite, well worn black bomber jacket into practice.

Oikawa immediately zeroes in on it, saying appreciatively as he walks towards the volleyball carts, ‘Ooh, Mattsun, that’s a nice jacket!’

Beside him, hands in his pockets, Takahiro snorts and says, ‘See, I was right, he does think it’s cool.’

Issei rolls his eyes and says, ‘Okay, fine, you were right this once.’

‘What are you talking about, I’m always right about everything.’

‘Hm. Okay, sure Hiro.’

‘Yeah, I’m starting to think I’m psychic, actually.’

‘Wow, Hanamaki-san, tell me more about what you see on my palm!’ Issei says, pitching his voice high.

Takahiro takes his hand and bends his head, squinting at it. ‘Hmm. Ah, your heartline, and your lifeline are very bold.’

‘Okay. What does that mean?’

‘You’ll have a long life and a committed, monogamous relationship,’ Takahiro says smoothly.

Issei nods. ‘Ah. Of course.’

‘Oh? What’s this!’ Takahiro pulls his palm up close to his eye and peers.

‘What is it, Hanamaki-san?’ Issei asks dutifully.

He gasps, ‘Your fuckline!’

Issei’s mouth twitches.

‘It says… Wait.’

He pulls out a marker out of his pocket and scribbles on Issei’s palm and Issei carefully remains blank faced at the feeling of Takahiro holding his hand.

Takahiro pulls the marker back with a flourish and proclaims, ‘Just as I thought. Your palm says your future holds lots and lots of anal sex.’

Issei looks at his palm and as predicted, it says in bold black marker, ‘LOTS AND LOTS OF ANAL SEX.’

He shrugs. ‘Checks out. I am, after all, a gay man.’

‘One of the gayest I know.’

He grasps Takahiro’s hand and holds it to his chest, saying sincerely. ‘Thank you so much for your wise words, Hanamaki-san. Truly, you have the inner eye.’

Takahiro nods sagely, eyes bright. ‘I _am_ gifted beyond belief.’

‘So many gifts. God really went overboard when he was making you.’

Takahiro tilts his chin thoughtfully. ‘Y’know, sometimes I start to wonder if I _am_ God.’

Oikawa groans and cuts them off before they can go on another tangent, pushing the cart of volleyballs to a stop besides the net and saying, ‘Okay, shut up Makki, if someone on the team was psychic, it wouldn’t be you, it would be me.’

Takahiro laughs out loud, his hand dropping from Issei’s and he instantly feels the loss. ‘Why, though? Like, when have you ever shown psychic tendencies?’

Oikawa crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. ‘What exactly falls under psychic tendencies?’

Issei claps a hand on his back. ‘Well, first of all, you need to have great hair.’

Takahiro agrees, his own hand slapping against Oikawa’s shoulder as they steer him towards the other side of the net, adding, ‘And wonderful fashion sense.’

‘Superior intellect.’

‘An appreciation for all things witchy.’

‘An appreciation for all things meme.’

‘Someone else’s Netflix password.’

‘A smokin’ bod.’

‘Oh, and great taste in men.’

‘So really, you can see why you’re definitely not psychic,’ Issei explains.

Oikawa narrows his eyes and shakes their hands off, spinning around to glare at them. ‘I have all of those things!’

Takahiro shakes his head sadly. ‘Nope, none of us have all of that except me.’

Issei ruffles Oikawa’s hair as he stares at them, unimpressed. ‘Aw, it’s okay, Tooru-chan. Hiro has his psychic abilities, I have my jacket, I’m sure you’ll find something.’

‘Uhh, my excellent volleyball skills?’ Oikawa says, raising an eyebrow.

Takahiro purses his lips.

‘My fanclub?’ he tries.

Issei hums noncommittedly.

‘Aha! A close relationship with Iwaizumi Hajime!’ he says triumphantly. ‘None of you could ever have what I have!’

Takahiro pauses, and then shrugs. ‘Yeah, damn, no he’s got us there, Issei.’

‘Yeah, for real, he has the in with Iwaizumi. None of us could win at life that much.’

‘What the fuck are you nerds yammering on about?’

They turn around as Iwaizumi steps into the gym, eyebrow raised.

Oikawa throws his hands up and instantly defends himself, ‘It was them, they were objectifying you, Iwa-chan!’

Takahiro stares at him.

Iwaizumi walks over and squints. ‘Oh. Nice jacket, Matsukawa.’

‘That’s what I said!’ Oikawa says excitedly.

Issei turns his head slowly and smiles smugly at Takahiro. ‘See? _Some_ people appreciate me.’

Takahiro sighs long-sufferingly. ‘It’s not that cool of a jacket,’ he says half-heartedly.

‘Oh, hey, look at Matsukawa-san’s jacket! It’s so cool!’ Takahiro’s skinny shoulders sag and Issei’s smile widens as the juniors start flooding into the gym, eyes wide and in awe of Issei’s fucking dope jacket.

Oikawa gasps. ‘Oh my god, Mattsun, can I try it on?’

Issei shrugs. ‘Sure, go ahead.’ He tugs it off and tosses it at Oikawa who tries it on eagerly.

He snaps the collar. ‘How do I look?’ he says smugly, turning and strutting.

Everyone watches him and Takahiro tilts his head. ‘Huh. It’s too loose on your shoulders, you kinda look like a kid.’

Oikawa makes a face.

He tugs it off and deflects, announcing, ‘Whatever, it’s beneath me. Oh, Iwa-chan, you should try it on!’

That starts a long chain of everyone trying on Issei’s jacket. It’s too long on Iwaizumi, but tight around the arms, and Issei snickers at the pinched, torn look on Oikawa’s face. Watari is in awe, saying, ‘I’m gonna get a jacket like this!’ It’s a close fit with Kindaichi, but still sort of loose in places. He grins widely when he gets his turn. Kunimi, on the other hand, is practically drowning in it when Kindaichi convinces him to try it on. He glowers at him and practically tears it off.

Once everyone’s tried it, Issei turns to Takahiro and raises a brow. He offers it, eyes lidded.

Takahiro squints, and says, ‘Nope.’

Issei furrows his brows. ‘What? Why not?’ _Does it smell or something?_ he wonders.

Takahiro reads his suddenly worried expression and rolls his eyes, saying, ‘No it doesn’t smell, asshole, chill out. I just- It’s not the coolest, y’know?’

He frowns. ‘What?’

‘Y’know,’ he says vaguely. ‘Like, well, I don’t see the appeal to wearing your jacket, and besides, I’ve gotta do receiving practice. I’ve been getting sloppy.’

Issei’s frown deepens, and he says, ‘Aw, hey, no, you’ve been great, what d’you m-‘

‘Yeah, yeah, pass the ball for me?’

‘I- sure.’

He wishes he could say he left it at that and stopped pressing the issue. But Issei really wants to see Hiro in his jacket, and he can be pretty stubborn when he wants to be.

Issei wheedles all day, trying to convince him to put it on. Takahiro is unbelievably firm though. Every time Issei passes by him in between classes, he says, ‘Hey, are you cold? You should wear my jacket.’

Every time, Takahiro responds, ‘No thanks, I’m good.’

It’s _frustrating_.

At lunch, they sit at their usual spot on the school roof and Takahiro automatically goes to rest his head on Issei’s shoulder but he moves to the side, and tilts his head at him. Takahiro narrows his eyes.

‘What?’

‘…Will you wear my jacket?’

‘No!’

‘Then you can’t cuddle.’

‘Are you- Are you serious?’

‘Well…’

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

‘I- Fuck.‘ Issei tries to hold his ground but he’s weak and the incredulous, almost _hurt_ look on Hiro’s face has him drooping and immediately tossing his arm around his shoulders and pulling him into his side, muttering, ‘Yeah, fine, you’re right, I’d never.’

Takahiro huffs and burrows himself into Issei’s side, kicking him lightly and saying, ‘Fucking right.’

It’s one of those soft moments he cherishes, relaxed and warm and just the two of them. He doesn’t bring up the jacket thing throughout their lunch period, and tries not to flush when Takahiro’s hand curls into the fabric of the bomber jacket as he dozes off, dyed pink head soft against Issei’s jaw and shoulder.

He’s right back to trying his utmost to get him to wear it afterwards, though. Their year mates are witness to Issei dropping Takahiro off at his math class and complaining loudly as he leaves, ‘You didn’t even wear a jacket today, come on, Hiro!’

‘No, you’ll never get me in that fucking jacket!’

‘Fuck off!’

‘Fuck you!’

Issei slumps in his seat in his physics class, sulking and Oikawa, who he shares the period with, drops down next to him and says, ‘So, Mattsun, why do you want him to wear it so bad?’

‘No reason,’ he says mulishly.

‘Really, ‘cause I was thinking it’s because you have a big fat crush on hi-‘

‘Fuck off, asshole, so what.’

‘Oh! You’re admitting it!’

‘Yeah, fine, I want to see the boy I like in my jacket, alright!’

Oikawa grins and ruffles his hair, cooing, ‘Aw, Mattsun. That’s so fucking _gay_ -‘

‘ _Fuck off_!’

Takahiro doesn’t even budge all day. It’s practically humiliating when Issei walks into the locker room and it’s him and the first years, and Kunimi shakes his head at him.

‘Still wearing that jacket, huh, Matsukawa-san?’ he mocks.

Issei has to resist the urge to choke the little bastard. He settles for a calm and cool, ‘Shut the fuck up, Kunimi.’

Kunimi laughs quietly as he leaves.

Issei is incredibly bullheaded however, and they walk home together and it’s Friday and Takahiro is staying over for the night, so he still maintains that he has time. In fact, it’ll probably be easier to convince him to put it on when it’s just them. So he doesn’t lose hope.

On the walk home, he purposefully leaves a sliver of space between them so that Hiro feels colder.

He feels like pure and absolute shit when he sees Takahiro shivering, nose and cheeks turning pink and looking adorable, but he endeavors.

‘Hm. Kinda cold isn’t it,’ he comments.

'…Yeah.'

'The kinda chill that makes you wish you were wearing a jacket, huh.'

Takahiro doesn’t respond, staring at the pavement and lets out a resigned sigh.

‘I don’t really feel it, though, and if someone else was to wear my jacket I’d be fine without it-‘

Issei keeps up a steady rapport of slow bullshit throughout the walk home and Takahiro shoots back snide remarks and moves closer and closer to him unconsciously, and he cheers internally every time he inches closer towards pressing his shoulder to Issei’s because that’s a win his little black book.

They’re at Issei’s street when Takahiro stops walking abruptly and Issei’s eyebrows shoot up and he trails off. Has he won? Is this it?

Takahiro looks up at Issei and he swallows and hopes he doesn’t flush too visibly at the sight of the slightly pissed and unfairly hot look in his narrowed gray eyes.

Issei’s throat works and he knits his brows, ignoring how he’s slightly turned on seeing Takahiro staring him down, and he tilts his head at him.

'You okay? Sorry, did I piss you off, d’you want me to stop? I’ll shut up, I’m sorry.' 

And his sharp eyes soften, getting heavy lidded and warm and molten silver, those lips parting slightly, then curving into a sweet, pretty smile and Issei’s _so_ in love with him.

'Hana-?'

'Issei.' 

Issei's mind goes blank. He blinks, then smiles back helplessly. 'Hiro?'

Takahiro looks up at him, still smiling softly. 

His next words make Issei go fucking nuts. 

'You’re right, I’m cold, can I have your jacket?'

Issei freezes. 'What the fuck,' he whispers, shell-shocked. 

Takahiro laughs, the best sound he’s ever heard in his life. 

Issei scrambles. 'W-Wait, goddammit, give me a fucking minute you- Shit, Hiro-'

He scrubs his hand over his face, shoving it up further and ruffling his hair in disbelief. 

'Yeah, fuck yes, definitely it’s yours- I mean- Yeah of course, fuck,' he manages, already shrugging it off and Takahiro beams up at him. 

He hesitates a moment, jacket in his hands. Then he exhales and wraps it around Hiro's shoulders, tossing his arm around them for good measure, ducking his head to lean in closer and murmur, 'Better?' 

Takahiro smiles up at him, gorgeous and flushed and he nods silently. Issei nods back, lump in his throat, muttering, 'Yep, great, cool cool, that’s- cool.' His voice cracks embarrassingly on the last, final shovel of dirt in the coffin called 'cool' and Takahiro doesn’t even bother to hide his snickering. 

He squeezes his shoulders and together, they walk up to Issei’s house, flushed and smiling.

‘So you wanted me to wear it because you’re in love with me, right?’

Issei fucking trips, and Takahiro grabs his bicep and tugs him back so he doesn’t slip and fall and laughs loud and pleased and Issei turns his head to stare at him as he laughs, clutching Issei’s arm so he doesn’t fall and Takahiro wipes a tear and grins, eyes bright and crinkled and looking up at Issei.

Issei stares back, eyes wide. ‘I-‘ His mouth opens and closes, speechless.

Takahiro shakes his head, flushed and still grinning.

‘You goddamn nerd,’ he says, and leans up and kisses him. 

Issei stands, frozen and stunned, Takahiro’s soft, slightly chapped lips pressing against his own and when his brain comes back online, Takahiro is bashfully pulling away. Issei makes a low, broken noise at the back of his throat and presses against him, tugging him back up with a hand at his nape and kissing him as sweet as he can, slotting their mouths together, the other hand sliding down to the small of his back to hold them as flushed close together as he can.

Takahiro sighs and _melts_ into the kiss, hand coming up to thread into his hair, grip tight on his bicep and Issei bends his head down, kissing harder, tongue pressing against his lower lip and licking into his mouth when his lips part for him.

He moans softly and Issei nips down. He pulls back, the soft smacking sound of their spit-slick lips splitting apart loud in the hushed, cold street.

‘Hi,’ Takahiro whispers, voice low and soft.

Issei presses a kiss to the corner of his wet mouth, saliva cooling quickly in the cold air and knocks their foreheads together gently, his smile growing wide and affectionate and foolish. ‘Hi.’

Takahiro’s face splits into that wide smile and Issei’s jacket is falling off his shoulders. Issei’s hand automatically comes up to rearrange it firmer around his frame and Takahiro kisses his cheek, and says, ‘Let’s go in, then, dumbass.’

Issei beams and they walk up the driveway, his hand against Takahiro’s back and Takahiro looking soft and like every dream he’s ever had buried in Issei’s favorite jacket.

‘So why didn’t you wanna wear it?’

‘Ugh, it was too embarrassing, I knew it’d be big and warm and smell like you and all that gay shit.’

‘Aw, did you like, have a crush on me or something?’

‘I’m gonna throw you out of your own house.’

‘As long as we can make out a bit before that. My fuckline promised me lots of anal.’

‘No sex on the first date.’

‘Goddammit.’

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/caandlelit/status/1289313565292351489?s=20)  
> here's my [matsuhana spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/74RiRixmdIovsGnL2MWewq?si=8uMGy8vtRr6tvXScJNAiTA)  
> which has been on repeat in my head for the past decade
> 
> thankyou for reading love you matsuhana nation !!! please comment <33


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